The Mystery of the Memorial Day Fire

simple black frame set it off perfectly — which is lucky, Trixie thought, since that’s all I could afford. She marveled again at Nick’s talent and resolved to do everything she could to see that that talent wasn’t swamped by a sea of troubles.
    With the dusting done, Trixie washed the floor of the big country kitchen until it shone. Then she straightened her room and took down a load of dry clothes from the line.
    Finally it was time for supper. Mart found that night an appetite to rival his own. “To what do we owe this gust of gustatory vehemence?” he asked.
    “I’m hungry because I’ve been working hard,” Trixie said. “You ought to try it sometime. On second thought, you’d better not — the way you eat already, we couldn’t afford to fill you up if you did a lot of work.”
    “Our day’s accomplishments may not seem like much compared to yours,” Brian said, “but we weren’t exactly lounging around. We got the garage cleaned out, the basement straightened up, and the driveway edged.”
    “I’m proud of all of you,” Mrs. Belden said. “What about me, Moms?” Bobby said. “Are you proud of me?”
    “Of course,” Helen Belden told her youngest son. “I think I have the four best children in the whole world.”
    “I think they have the best mother,” Peter Belden said. “Certainly they have the mother who makes the best fried chicken and” — he raised his eyebrows in hopeful questioning— “apple pie?”
    “That was supposed to be a surprise,” Mrs. Belden said in mock-despair. “It’s impossible to keep a secret in this family.”
    “It’s impossible to keep a secret that smells as good as that one,” her husband agreed.
    “Well, your guess was right, anyway,” Mrs. Belden said. “I decided to celebrate the coming of summer by baking the last of the apple pies I froze last fall. From now on, we’ll have to rely on fresh produce exclusively!”
    “Yummy yum!” Trixie said. “I might feel sad about the last of the apple pies if I didn’t feel so happy about the strawberry shortcake and blueberry cobbler and cherry pie that are coming!”
    “Let us divest ourselves of the vestiges of the entree so that we might progress to the pastry,” Mart said, rising and beginning to clear the table.
    “We have to progress to the clubhouse pretty soon,” Trixie said. “There will be just enough time to have dessert and do the dishes.”
    In the end, though, it was Mart and Brian Belden who did the dishes, because Trixie was called to the phone just as she finished the last bite of pie.
    “Trixie, this is Nick Roberts,” the solemn voice said. “I just wanted you to know that my father is home. Sergeant Molinson released him without pressing charges — although he made it clear that Dad isn’t really off the hook yet.”
    “Oh, Nick, I’m so glad. About your father’s being released, not about his not being off the hook,” Trixie told him. “I bet he’s glad to be home.”
    “Well,” Nick said slowly, “actually, he doesn’t seem glad about much of anything. He’s really acting as if it’s all over — as if he’ll never be able to get his life back together again.”
    “Oh, Nick, that isn’t true,” Trixie protested. “I know this whole thing is awful, but it can’t last forever.”
    “I know that,” Nick said. “I told Dad we should just keep moving ahead. The insurance company is holding off on paying our claim, of course. But we have lots of inventory in the basement of our house — I told you the store was too small to hold everything. It’s all paid for, and we have enough in savings to buy new equipment. We could rent a new store or work out of the house.” Nick’s voice had gathered enthusiasm as he spoke. The enthusiasm left suddenly, though, as he added, “Dad won’t even talk about the idea. He just doesn’t seem to have the energy to start over.”
    There was a long silence. Trixie couldn’t think of any way to respond.
    “Well,” Nick said, “I shouldn’t be bothering you with all this. I really only called to tell you that Dad is home, and to thank you for your help this morning.”
    “Oh, Nick, you mustn’t think you were bothering me,” Trixie said emphatically, realizing that her silence had been misinterpreted. “I’m bothering me, because I can’t seem to think of anything to do about all this. But I’d feel even worse if I thought you were avoiding talking to me about it.”
    “I really believe you mean